


Swimming in Sin

by zsra187



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love/Hate, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsra187/pseuds/zsra187
Summary: "You let your hair get long." His voice is as soft as silk, it ripples over her like water."You told me not to cut it."---Set after 2:13. Months later, Beth finds someone waiting for her when she comes home.





	Swimming in Sin

So, here's the thing. In the back of her mind, she always knew it could happen, would happen. It was just a matter of _when_.

It took longer than she thought.

\---

She sighs inwardly as she manoeuvres the grocery bags from arm to arm, pushing the door open with a toe and jamming her back against the wood. The kids are itching to get back into the house. Dean had arrived the day before with a Super Soaker 3000 and enough water balloons to equip an army -  it was on special at Walmart, enticing hot and bothered parents everywhere to part with their cash in an effort entertain their kids during the unreasonably warm April weather.

Kenny is the only one not brimming with impatience to get indoors. He waits coolly while she heaves the weight of the bags once more, hands jammed into his pockets, ear buds plugged in tight. She knows he's angry at her, at Dean too. It's been hardest on him out of all of them. Jane and Emma are still so young, Danny's her sweet boy, but oblivious to nearly everything, but Kenny... Kenny's just old enough to remember when things were better between her and Dean; when they played pirates and princess in the tiny backyard of their old house, when they ate ice cream for breakfast, when they were a real _family_.

"Honey, could you just..."

Beth wiggles awkwardly through the door, holding it open just enough to create a Jane-sized gap, through which the aforementioned squeezes immediately, screaming something about teams, play houses and 'getting to higher ground'. Danny grabs Emma's hand and pulls her inside towards the backyard.

To her horror, not one of them stops to put on a bathing suit. "Kids! Clothes off, now!" To their credit, they follow her instructions immediately. She can see their distant figures through the back door, shredding shorts and t-shirts until they're down to their vests and underwear. Jane grabs the water balloon thrower and soaks Danny immediately with an evil shriek of glee. _Figures_.

"Kenny, could you take these into the kitchen for me?" She thrusts the bags into his arms.

And she knows, _she knows_ life has been tough recently; the meetings with divorce lawyers that they can't quite hide from him, the scuff marks on his old sneakers she'd colour in with a marker, much to his disgust. The onset of puberty that felt like it was coming at a snail's pace now feels like its hit with the force of a freight train.  And it wasn't his fault. Nonetheless, Beth can't help the bristle of anger when her request is met with an eye roll and exasperated sigh.

"Okay, enough with the attitude," she snaps. "It's two bags. Just put them on the kitchen counter please."

The noise he makes at that is even louder, departing the territory of quiet insolence and venturing into disrespectful. "Whatever, mom." He almost stomps off towards the kitchen.

Beth grits her teeth. Jesus. As if everything that's happened over the past few months wasn't enough, now she has to deal with a kid who hates her. Like her mother would say: _Beth, it never rains, but it pours_.

She goes back out front, leans on the open trunk of the car and closes her eyes to the world for just a moment. She knows she's being ridiculous, but it stings. Her beautiful boy, her first born, so full of righteous, glaring anger. She wants to scream at him, at all of them who give her those sad, pitying looks in the school pick-up lines, the 'thought she could have it all, well look what happened, you went and lost yourself a husband' looks. _Dean had affairs! He faked cancer to make me stay with him!_ She wished she could tell them all, but she would never say that to the kids. He was their father, after all.

\---

And it wasn't just problems with Dean that was making her life hard. There was also book club.

Simply put, being free wasn't as easy or as straight forward as she'd initially anticipated it would be.

To her embarrassment, she realised pretty quickly that while they were able to handle the day-to-day washing and distribution of the cash, they were woefully inept to deal with all the things that came with it. Like the need for start-up capital, and lots of it. And clients.

And business partners. _Other_ business partners.

They didn't like her. Didn't trust her, no matter how many times she delivered. Her contact up in Canada worked for a while, so long as she didn't bring her 'trigger-happy friend' with her (a caveat for which Ruby was incredibly thankful) but after a while he inexplicably disappeared. She tried calling, even asked his buddies at the store, but no-one had heard from him. She was being ghosted, as Annie put it. He'd hit her, then quit her.

So, they decided to try and make it on their own. Well, she decided. Annie was always happy to throw caution to the wind for a bit of extra cash, immediately pulling out her phone to google 'high quality printing services near Detroit', but Beth couldn't say she didn't see the look of unease on Ruby's face when she announced her new idea.

_"There are like, thousands of different kinds of printers. Digital printers, lithographic printers, large format, custom inks..." Annie scrolled down the list of printers online. "I have no idea what we'd even need. Hey, don't you have a printer upstairs?"_

_"Yeah, so?"_

_"Well, what kind is it?"_

_"I don't know. A colour one?"_

_"Okay. Why can't we use that?"_

_Beth ignored the question. "What we need... is someone experienced in print management."_

_"Who also wouldn't say no to getting in with some dirty money and possibly doing a five to fifteen stretch in a correctional facility. What's not to love?!"_

And that was pretty much as far as they'd gotten. She'd put out feelers with a few women she knew were in the printing industry, but not one of them took the bait. After that, it all went quiet. No calls, no texts, no drops. Nothing. Just this weird emptiness inside of her, that disappeared when she was with the kids or Annie and Ruby, but that clawed its way back into her chest whenever she found herself alone.

_"Listen babe," Ruby had said one evening, a bottle of wine down and Real Housewives re-runs playing in the background. "I know you really wanted this new printing thing to work out, but maybe this is for the best."_

_"You don't trust me?"_

_"You know I do."_

_"Then what?"_

_Ruby threw her hands into the air with a sigh. "I just want you to be okay."_

_"I'm fine."_

_Beth caught Ruby's gentle glance. "Are you?"_

Now she opens her eyes, eyelashes wet with unshed tears. Ruby's voice echoing in her head, _'Are you?'_

She swipes her hand across her cheek, catching the tears as they fall. _Guess not._

\---

She spots it almost as soon as she steps into the kitchen. It gleams gold against the worktop, seemingly innocuous in its silence, right next to the two bags of groceries that Kenny put down. The kids probably didn't see it there either, must've ran straight past it in their haste to get outside.

Her heart slams into her chest as she stands there staring at it. His gun. _He's here._

The world around her dissolves into one single, definable pinpoint. Rio. In her house. There's a shout from the backyard but it's just the kids, oblivious to the fact that there's a dangerous, extremely _pissed-off_ crime boss stalking somewhere around their house.

Then there's a footstep behind her, and here comes the voice she's been both dreading and craving to hear.

"Hey mami."

She should be more surprised, shocked even. The first time they met, when he appeared from around the corner, sitting on the kitchen counter, she'd screamed like a banshee and dropped her groceries. Now she does nothing expect forget to breathe.

She doesn't turn around, maybe thinks that she _can't_ turn around. If she doesn't see him, then this doesn't have to be real, she won't have to deal with this reality. But since when has he ever played by her rules? He walks around the kitchen counter until he's in front of her, smirking. Then his eyes widen with a sudden, innocent concern that fools no-one.

"Damn, you okay? You've gone all white, like you've seen a ghost or somethin'."

He looks good. Like, really good, considering the last time she saw him, he was on the verge of death. Dark jeans, black t-shirt, tattoo peeking out over the top. Her stomach drops when he makes no secret of roving his eyes over her body and suddenly she's extremely self-conscious of her own appearance. She's wearing an old summer dress, navy blue jersey with no sleeves, and sandals. Usually she wouldn't leave the house with so much skin on show, not unless she wanted to turn the colour of a lobster. But today it was the only thing she could bear to put on in the heat.

He's smiling at her, that self-assured, arrogant grin he used to have whenever she'd done something to amuse him. Only now she's not doing anything except stand there, mouth open and speechless, mind whirring.

What should she say? _How are you?_ God, that was lame, it's pretty obvious he's doing fine, and she'd rather not ask a question that'll give him the opportunity to reply with some smart-ass comment like 'I'm all good, no thanks to you.'

_Why are you here?_ She rules that one out too. There can only be one reason why he's here. That leaves her with...

"Where have you been?"

He leans on the counter with one forearm. "I've been lying low," he says, taking a sip from a teacup, one from Beth's fancy, expensive, china tea set. The terrifying thought that he's been here long enough to make himself a cup of tea flits through her mind, before he continues. "Yeah, thought I'd get away for a while. Catch some rays, work on my tan. Recuperate, you know?"

He's looking right at her, holding her gaze the way he's always done. "Recuperate?" she repeats blankly.

"Doctors orders. You need help unpackin'?"

He straightens and drains his cup, walks over to the grocery bags on the counter and peers inside before starting to unload the food onto the counter. She can only watch as he sorts through her items carefully, stacking up the meat and vegetable packets to go to the refrigerator and placing the cans of tomatoes and chickpeas on top of one another, destined for the store cupboard.

"So, funny thing," he says as he moves about her kitchen, "Heard you've been setting up in the business without me. Washing cash, tryna make a name for yourself..." And _finally_ , she thinks, _here it is_. She eyes the gun that's still sitting there on the counter, almost lost between the bell peppers and potatoes. Could she make a grab it before he gets to it? Does she want to? Would he even do anything with her kids right there in the garden? She has no idea what he's thinking anymore. All she's certain of is that she believed, trusted, betrayed, kissed, fucked, and then shot this man over the space of one year, and now hasn't seen him in four months. And she doesn't have anything figured out anymore.

"Only the word on the street is... you ain't ready to play with the big boys." He looks back over his shoulder at her from where he stands, door open, rearranging the contents of her refrigerator. "My guys don't think you got what it takes. Not enough clients know you. You got a face like a doll, darlin', but if the players don't trust you, you ain't allowed to play the game."

Beth huffs out a little breath at the analogy, feeling almost scolded. She'd once said almost exactly the same thing to Danny during a game of 'Go Fish', only this time there was a big difference between not taking a sneaky peek at someone else's cards and not ratting out a crime boss to the Feds.

He continues talking, interrupting her thoughts. "You get any asparagus? That's in season now."

Surreal doesn't even begin to cover it. She shakes her head slightly. "Uh... no." He shrugs and continues to move things around, taking the unopened cartons of milk out of the door and lying them flat on the bottom shelf. _What the hell?_

"Do you mind?" she snaps.

He grins at her and closes the fridge door, heading back to the bags. He pulls out a packet of store bought oatmeal raisin cookies, gives her a slightly judgemental look. "You buyin' these now?"

Embarrassment flares within her, colouring her cheeks. "I don't always have time to bake anymore," she answers hotly. "And give me those." She snatches the packet from his grasp, turns around and bends down to put them in the bottom slide drawer when she suddenly thinks, _oh shit_.

She's got her back to him and suddenly he's up behind her, curving palms resting lightly on her hips. The heat from his hands warms her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. She bolts upright, standing still as a statue, heart pounding. Then his thumbs start to move, tracing tiny circles into her skin, and suddenly every nerve ending is on fire with a simple touch.

His hands move from her hips to her ass. "You let your hair get long." His voice is as soft as silk, it ripples over her like water.

It's true, her hair is longer than when he last saw it. She'd combed through several hair stylist magazines once she'd officially signed the divorce papers, let Annie and Ruby cut out all their favourite styles (then promptly threw most of Annie's suggestions away) before deciding to let her bangs grow out, and cut in some layers. The result wasn't that much different, but softer somehow, and more stylish looking.

"You told me not to cut it."

He hums appreciatively. "It looks good."

She feels him move closer behind her, his face leaning into her hair for a split second. "Smells good too. You got a new shampoo or somethin'?"

His voice sends a shiver down her spine, makes her ache. _Is it his voice, or his hands?_ They're roaming down to the curve of her ass, the sides of her thighs, fingers inching up her dress little by little. Her hands start to shake, so she clutches onto the edge of the counter top, not trusting herself to let go.

"No."

He lifts one hand to her shoulder, trails the back of his fingers down her upper arm. "You sure you're okay? Baby, you're tremblin'."

"I'm fine," she says, feeling ridiculous as soon as she says it, because she's so obviously _not_ fine, so clearly falling to pieces at his touch, goosebumps prickling her skin, breath coming faster, eyes closing.

He's pulling her dress up faster now, over one knee and upwards. She bends slightly, pushing her ass into his crotch but he bends his spine with hers and now they're pressed together from head to toe, not an inch between them. His hands reach easily around to her front, and they've done this before, it's like muscle memory, and before she knows what she's doing, she's hiking her skirt up over her hips again and _god_ , she could almost laugh at the irony of it all.

_Is this what you came back for?_ She wants to ask, but doesn't trust herself to speak. _To humiliate me, seduce me, kill me?_ Well, she supposes, so far two out of three ain't bad.

And it's embarrassingly easy, she realises with a burning shame, for her to forget about the gun that's just sitting there when his hands smooth over her breasts, down her stomach and into her panties. He's barely touched her and she's literally shaking with want.

Suddenly he's pushing her legs apart with his feet, thrusting his thigh in between hers to keep her in position. "You been waitin' for this, mami?"

She swallows a moan as his fingers work a slow magic, determined not to give him the satisfaction she knows he wants. _Waiting?_ _Is he serious?_ As if she knew the whole time, as if she wasn't sending herself half crazy every day not knowing if he was ever going to come back, half in mourning for someone who could either be dead or alive.

"Waiting for you? No."

She squirms beneath his fingers. He's driving her mad with a feather-light touch, moving in and then away again, teasing. If she were to turn around now, he'd probably be smirking, which she hates. She wants to be at an advantage, to be the one in control, but it's impossible with him. In an effort to reassert some tiny medium of control, her hand leaves its place from clutching the counter top and moves down, grasping his wrist, the one that's delving deep into her underwear.

She should pull him out, tell him to leave her house, like he did to her, but her body just won't follow. Somehow she only manages to cover his fingers with hers, press him deeper, harder into her.

"Yeah," he drawls. His fingers move into a faster rhythm, drawing her body into a tighter coil and a shuddering gasp from her lips. "I guess there's no need to wait when you think someone's dead, right?"

His words wash over her like a freezing bucket of water. Between breaths she manages to stutter, "I... I didn't know..."

"Oh, you think I forgot about that, huh?" he says, his voice low, lips grazing her earlobe, which he takes between his teeth and _bites_. "That you tried to kill me and left me for dead."

No! He's twisting it, putting it all on her. She was terrified, had just been kidnapped, reached the edge of her sanity. "I thought that Turner..."

"Aww, don't try it play it that way, Elizabeth." Her name rolls slowly off his tongue, the way it always does. "You think you'll get away with it that easy? That I'll just forgive and forget?" If there's one thing she definitely doesn't expect, it's his forgiveness, but while his voice hardens, his hands are still soft, still plying her open and playing her from the inside out, coaxing her to the edge and then pulling her away again. She tip-toes the line between terror and ecstasy, gasping, so close to the edge, before she feels something cold jam itself into the soft skin of her jaw, just under her chin.

The suddenness of it rips a shuddering breath from her. She should be used to it, he's done this so many times before, but she's never been truly scared of it until now.

"Don't..." she whispers. Don't what? Don't shoot her? Don't stop what he's doing with his hands? Don't leave her body here for her kids to find? She doesn't even know how to finish the sentence, but with a burning shame she will cry over later, adds just one word. "Please..."

And he just laughs. "You begging me now? Is this not going the way you thought it would?" He presses the gun harder into her neck. "What did you think was gonna happen, huh? We're gonna sit around the camp fire, singing kumbaya and doing trust falls?"

No, she wants to answer. If she was being truly honest with herself, this is _exactly_ what she thought was going to happen. But that doesn't mean she's just going to accept it. _Be a boss bitch._

She thinks she startles him when she reaches her arm up and grabs the gun around the barrel. He grunts, adjusts his position to hold her even tighter and she knows she won't be able to wrestle it away, he's too strong. So she just holds it there, her hand tight and unmoving.

"Go on then," she goads, and she thinks if Ruby could see her now she'd be having a heart-attack. _Don't antagonize the murdering crime boss, Beth!_  Too late. "Go on! Do it."

"You want it?" His thumb circles her clit. She's so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion, and she doesn't know if she's nodding her head or shaking it, laughing or crying, doesn't know anything anymore.

Then he's gone. It's abrupt, too sudden. One second he's there, the next he's pulling his hand out of her panties and shoving his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. She should be relieved, but it feels like a punishment. _This isn't fair._

Beth swings around to face him but her legs feel like jelly. She stumbles, clutches onto the counter for purchase.  

"I had a problem, I handled it." She squares her shoulders, bristles with a confidence she doesn't quite feel. "Isn't that what you told me to do?"

And it's the strangest thing, he grins at her words. A genuine, elated smile, as if he's been waiting all this time for her to just say it. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't too clear on that. My bad." Then he turns on his heel, heading off towards the front door, and Beth feels a tremor of panic that he's going to leave, walk out of her life so suddenly after coming into it once more, and she'll never see him again.

"So what is this, my punishment?" She takes a step after him. "You come over here, hold a gun against my head, make me beg for your forgiveness, then leave?"

He pauses before the door and looks back at her, shakes his head. "Don't worry baby, I'll see you around." Then he pulls open the door and his final, ominous reply sends a shiver down her spine before it slams shut. "I ain't the forgiving type."

**Author's Note:**

> So, while it made me want to cry forever, I absolutely loved the season finale. There's no way Rio is dead (of course!) and even though he is going to be _so pissed_ at Beth, I don't think it's going to kill the unbelievable chemistry between them, it'll get even more intense.
> 
> I'm desperate for them to meet again in season 3, I think he's totally going to fuck with her and I can't wait. Hopefully I pulled off that kind of vibe with this fic, I really enjoyed writing it. If I can think of some ways he's going to get revenge, I might even write a few more chapters, haha. Let me know if you liked it!
> 
> (Also, title is from Miguel's 'Coffee' which is the most Beth/Rio song I've ever heard in my life - _'Love play, turns into gun play, gun play turns into pillow talk, pillow talk turns into sweet dreams...'_ )


End file.
